


Unholy Things

by izzet



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, It's my first fic please be gentle, M/M, My First Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Talk, Smut, domestic snowbaz, eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzet/pseuds/izzet
Summary: Inspired by EllisyaSyron's brilliant fic "And You'll Never Walk Alone", and particularly by this line:"I don't even want to be swimming now. I want to be back at the lodge. I want to wash the lake off of him. I want to do unholy things to Simon Snow. I want to—"A fun little one-shot of exactly what Baz and Simon get up to when they get back from swimming...





	Unholy Things

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And You'll Never Walk Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259975) by [EllisyaSyron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisyaSyron/pseuds/EllisyaSyron). 



**BAZ**

We stumble through the front door, leaving wet footprints on the floor of the entryway. I want him _now_. Snow stops and begins to towel himself dry, entirely missing the I-want-you-now-ness of the moment, and I grab the towel from his hands and toss it on the floor. He looks up, head cocked. I attack his lips roughly with mine as I lead him, backwards, through the bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom.

At the door to the walk-in shower I pause. We haven’t discussed this exactly. I mean, it’s not the first time I’ve seen Snow naked. (We crossed that bridge eight seconds after he turned up on my doorstep.) But now that I’m about to peel his wet swimming trunks off his hips, I’m uncertain. I’ve wanted this, wanted _him_ , since basically forever. What if I’m pushing him to move too quickly?

Snow hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his trunks and they’re on the floor before I can finish the thought. Grinning, I hastily move to match him.

The shower is hot and Snow is so _hot_. Scalding water streams down his shoulders and back. I don’t understand how someone who runs perpetually feverish can enjoy a searing shower, but I’m not about to complain. My lips find my favorite place beneath his jaw and suck on the warm, wet skin.

We pause and actually wash off the lake residue, and as Snow wobbles unsteadily on one foot while scrubbing the other foot, he flashes me a lopsided grin. _Merlin_ , he’s so endearing. If this isn’t exactly what I pictured a hundred thousand times, it’s because it’s so much better. I imagined being naked with Snow would somehow be more momentous, more life-altering than this. And I suppose it was, the first time. But now this feels natural. Unbelievably fucking sexy and natural.

I won’t let myself get distracted by his goofy, disarming smile. I have plans for Simon Snow.

Snow is standing between me and the water, facing away, rinsing. I press my chest into his back and run one hand up his torso while snaking the other down his thigh. He leans into me, exhaling.

“Are you quite finished?” I murmur into his ear.

“Mmmh.” I choose to interpret that as a yes.

I bite lightly on his shoulder. “Come on then.”

The bed is still unmade from this morning, and I hastily push back everything but the sheet and guide Snow onto his back. I straddle his hips and I’m kissing his neck, his ribs, his stomach, working my way downward.

Snow’s magic is right below the surface now. I feel it like an electric current, a low-grade hum in my lips and jaw where they connect with his skin. 

I shift my focus lower, to the crease of his hip. He likes this spot. I can tell by his deep inhalation and the way his back arches off the mattress. I kiss once, twice, then suck the delicate skin with my tongue and teeth to form a dark bruise. He hisses, eyes closed, and twists his fingers into my hair.

I shift slightly until my lips are almost touching _him_. His fingers in my hair go still. I kiss the underside of his shaft lightly, hardly touching, and he jerks involuntarily.

I lick the tip of his cock and then run my tongue over my lips, wetting them. I gently take his head into my mouth.

Will I ever get used to this? Two years ago, even my most vivid fantasies ended about two articles of clothing ago. And now there’s the potential for so much _more_. Merlin and Morgana, it’s almost too much.

_“Baz–”_

I ignore my name, parting my lips wider to slide his rock-hard cock along my tongue. I move my head up and down as his hips begin to match my rhythm. I grip the base of his shaft with one hand and slide the other onto his taut stomach and feel him shaking.

 _“BAZ–”_ He moans, urgent now.

I suck, hard, and pull him out of my mouth with a _pop_. I glance up at his face. Mouth open, eyes screwed shut. I start again, focused and insistent, bobbing my head while swirling my tongue –

_“I want you inside me.”_

Wh-what?

 

**SIMON**

Holy Mother of Fuck, I want him now. I need more.

My mind blanks out for a few seconds. It’s a little like standing up too fast, and the world spins and my vision dissolves into golden fractals. When my brain catches up with my body I realize I’ve flipped Baz onto his back. I’m on top of him, kissing him deeply, chest against his, my hand between us gripping both our shafts. 

Thrusting. Arching.

Faster. Harder. 

Don’t stop.

Harder.

Now.

We’re a mess of heat and sweat and precum. I bite Baz’s shoulder. He tastes like soap, like citrus and cedar, and my teeth press harder than I intended. He gasps and I move back to his mouth. 

He sucks on my tongue and his mouth tastes salty. It drives me fucking wild.

At this pace I won’t last long. I try to breathe, slow down. He’s paid me so much attention and I don’t want to come before he’s ready. But I’m so close.

He grabs a handful of my hair and whispers hoarsely in my ear. “I want to fuck you, Simon.”

It’s too much. I cry out as my whole body contracts and cum lashes onto our torsos. Baz pauses while I shudder against him. He murmurs unintelligibly against my ear. His voice is low and reassuring although I can’t make out the words. It’s how I imagine the ocean must sound on a calm day.

When my body stops convulsing, he slowly begins again, gentle, sliding himself inside my palm.

“I’m sor–” I start, before he breathes a “Shhh,” into my ear and pulls my hips firmly against his. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers.

Merlin. Words are not my strong suit. What do I say? I’ve never done this before. What if he doesn’t think it’s sexy? I wasn’t thinking when I spoke before, when I said…when I said that.

I want this for him, though. I want him to feel utterly satisfied, relaxed and content, and I want to be the cause of his satisfaction. Fuck it, let’s give it a go.

I move with his thrusts and kiss his collarbone as I whisper against his skin. “I want to feel you slide inside me.” He moans deep in his throat.

I continue. “I want you to fill me up.” And it’s true. He’s moving faster and I imagine how it would feel inside me instead of in my hand. He fucks like a Roman god, all lean muscles and sinew and intensity. Our precum and my cum make every motion slick and electric. What would that be like?

His breathing becomes jagged. I bite his earlobe, then suck on it. “I want you to fuck me hard.” He’s practically slamming into me. I know he’s close.

I match him thrust for thrust.

“Come for me.” I command.

And he fucking does.

****

After I grab towels and we clean ourselves up, Baz lays back on the bed with one arm stretched over his head, and I rest my head on his chest. He absently runs the fingers of his free hand through my still-damp hair. I wonder if he’s thinking about it also. About what we said.

I’ve done some research this summer since I’ve been staying at the lodge, now that there’s an actual possibility the knowledge might be relevant. I’ve sat on the balcony reading articles and watching muted videos, my phone screen angled away from the sliding patio door even though I know Baz won’t be home for hours.

I decide this isn’t the time to talk about it. This moment feels so peaceful. The only sound comes from the rise and fall of Baz’s chest and the quiet hum of the air-con. I worry that a factual conversation about physical intimacy, like our conversations about magic or what happens after summer, will push him away and I don’t want to feel alone, especially about this.

Instead I close my eyes and listen to Baz’s breathing and try to pretend it will be summer forever.


End file.
